Final Lesson
by FstLtHawkeye
Summary: Final Lesson: Pass or Fail, you still die" is a new campaign-style fic introducing a 5th survivor into the crew and their quest to escape another zombie infested city.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Left 4 Dead, et al is full property of VALVe. Anya is a product of my own imagination and zombie obsession.

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm was set off. Gun shots could be heard, and the cries of zombies were slowly filling the stagnant air. From the third floor of the apartment complex, a young woman of about 20 years old stood, staring out into the dead city streets. Good. The infection was still a few miles away, and her future comrades would slowly be close.

The woman turned away from her window and walked back into her room. Her door had been locked and a sheet of metal had been placed on the inside. No zombie could break in through her defense, and even the special, more powerful ones would have a tough time. She had a lot of time to devote to studying and preparing for this exact moment, and she was slowing realizing how glad she was because of it. A red medical kit sat on her desk, packed into a backpack shaped like a first-aid kit, down to even the red color and white cross. Her favorite pistol was right next to it, as well as a supply of ammunition and a pipe bomb just waiting to be detonated.

Yes, the young woman was prepared for whatever was going to be thrown her way. She wore white running shoes with the laces tied perfectly to prevent them from ever coming undone without a decent amount of effort. Her faded blue jeans were held up with a belt. She wore a dark blue, almost black, sweater with a white tank top under it. Her long dirty blonde hair was braided and fastened tightly.

She grabbed her gun and shoved it into the holster on her hip. Then she grabbed the med kit and pulled the strap, figuring out how to wear it. After a moment of struggling, she fitted it going across her chest. The pipe bomb, being checked for any stray fuses and determined to not be at risk of premature detonation, was placed in another spot on her belt.

Just as she was about to go to the window again, the sound of guns being shot stopped. The whole city was quiet. The young woman froze, waiting. The loudest growl she had heard in her life rang out, and she heard the sound of a chunk of ground being torn up.

"TAAAAAAAAANK!"

An obviously female voice cried, and then the sound of guns shooting picked up again. A mix of roaring, zombie cries, and those guns filled the night sky. The woman ran to the window and jumped out onto the balcony. She detached the pipe bomb, set it off, and threw it.

"Look out below!"

It was all the warning she could give to the quartet standing below her, fighting for their lives. She was, too, essentially, so it was her right to jump in like this. Her gray-green eyes watched as the stupid zombies chased after the bouncing, flashing pipe bomb and how they died in the following explosion. The diversion proved to be enough time for the others to kill the hulking, beefy, once-human being.

The woman ran to the end of the balcony and scurried down the escape ladder on the side. She walked up to the others holding her hands up in front of her chest, as if to show she meant no harm.

"Who are you?" A man dressed in pants and a vest, looking rugged and kind of like a biker, asked her. He had a harsh kind of edge to his voice, one that almost started the blonde girl.

"Yeah, who're you and why are you stealing or zombies?" The oldest man asked. He looked very much like a war veteran would, or so the young woman though. These two men seemed really unhappy that she had just helped save her life.

The other two were a black man and a woman that appeared to be about the same age. The third man said nothing, but the other girl approached her. For a moment, the two looked each other over, like females tend to do, and then smiled.

"Hello there. I'm Zoey. This is Louis" - she pointed to the bald black man- "Francis" - a motion toward the vested man was made- "and that over there is Bill." The military man nodded to her, having cooled down a bit and destroying the reason for the Zoey girl to acknowledge him herself. "Who are you and why haven't you found us sooner?"

The blonde girl brushed her braid back over her shoulder and forced herself to smile. Smiling wasn't really her thing. She was a bit of a loner, but in the zombie-infested world they lived in, that wasn't such a good option anymore. She hesitated, but a scoff from Francis made her hurry up.

"M-my name is Anya. I live in those apartments. I've... I've been watching for signs. I've been listening to the radios, military and all."

"I hate spys," Francis remarked. The others didn't seem to pay this comment much mind. Either Francis said things like this a lot or they knew she wasn't so much of a spy, but just another one of them. Just another survivor.

"I had hoped to find you all sooner or later. It was only a matter of time. The infection is so widespread. Hope was... hope was wearing thin." Anya had continued after giving each of them the slightest glance. Zoey was the most understanding of them all. Of course, Anya thought. She is a female and thrown into this crazy struggle.

Anya realized that she was just as much a part of it now as they were. The second she jumped out the window and threw the pipe bomb she dedicated herself to this campaign. Louis smiled at her as well, but started walking a little further. Francis muttered something along the line of: 'I hate newbies.' Bill scoffed and brushed past her, bumping his shoulder against her. Anya almost turned and shot him, but that would have been too rash. Zoey gave her an apolagetic look; they both knew she couldn't abandon her team. They were in too deep.

In a moment of rashness, something that was becoming a lot more frequent, a lightbulb went off in the blonde female's head. This was an all-or-nothing move, but it had to be done.

"Wait up!" Anya said simply, turning around to face them as they walked off. "I'm going with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Left 4 Dead, et al is full property of VALVe. Anya is a product of my own imagination and zombie obsession.

* * *

  
The streets were disconcertingly calm as the motley crew walked. They were all alert and waiting for something to just jump out of them. Anya froze, eyes going wide. The others stopped, looking at her. Zoey was the only one that seemed to be at least understanding of why the woman had stopped. Francis and Bill, at least to Anya, seemed to have something against her, and they tended to ignore her almost entirely since they had joined up. Louis was playing the faithful bodyguard to them all.

"Don't you hear that?" The blonde woman asked, looking around frantically as she shut off the flashlight. She had forgotten her own, but luckily Zoey seemed gracious enough to give her one to use. "I hear... I hear sobbing."

"It's probably just another witch. I hate witches. They do nothing but cry and sit there in our way. I say we find her and blow her head off." Francis piped up instantly, always eager to shove his opinion down everyone's throats. He shifted the automatic shotgun on his back, looking too eager to pull it off and shoot just about anything.

"Now now, Francis, we don't have to be hasty," Louis scolded, being careful to not step over the boundaries that had been formed after so long. "Maybe we can just sneak past her."

Anya had an idea entirely different. Maybe it was possible to kill her without having her chase them, but still keep the threat from popping up again. She was still new to this whole concept, though it was near impossible for her to have experienced much of anything. Granted, they had encountered a hunter and a boomer, but those should be the least of their worries right now.

Survival is key.

"Okay, we need to kill her as quick as possible, like Francis said, but we can't alert any more zombies. This is a pleasant treat; so few have come after us so far."

Bill scoffed at the brunette's suggestion. It wasn't like she had any right to say anything, or so he assumed. She didn't know any better than Zoey did, but at least he respected Zoey. Anya, after sensing this subtle hostility, sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Look, I spent a lot of summers working with troubled teens. The witch is a lot like that. I guess they call them 'emo' kids. We have to either comfort her and risk being killed, or eliminate the problem." Anya spoke shortly, keeping it to the point the best she could, and waited for a response. She wasn't suggesting that all emotionally troubled teenagers be shot in the head with a semi-automatic shotgun by any means, and she hoped that was made clear, though considering her company, she thought that was unlikely.

Francis rolled his eyes and just started walking. After a few steps, he stopped and spoke: "We'll continue with our methods, missy. We don't need yer pretend leadership. That'll git you killed sooner."

Zoey stood by Anya's side, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving an apologetic look. The three men, though so different, seemed to have one thing in common: none of them really cared for the new girl. She was so nervous, but she didn't have any idea what else to do. The blonde girl couldn't do much as far as objecting.

A moment later, the girls, who had decided to pursue their own adventures and hope for the best for the men, heard a loud scream. They exchanged looks and dashed for the source of the sound. They turned the corner just in time to see Bill pulling Louis up and Francis delivering a spray of shotgun blasts to the fussing witch's head. Zoey winced, but Anya kept a cool face. Not much phased her, after the life that she had led.

Anya wasn't old, but her spirit was. She had a gift, though she would call it a curse, for empathy and feeling the emotions of others. It tired her and wore her out, and after years of watching the pain and suffering of others, and suffering herself, she became numb to it. Maybe if they made it out of the city, she'd share a little bit more.

"Louis, what did you do to piss her off?" Francis asked as soon as he had slung the gun across his back again. He shrugged his shoulders, hoping to adjust the weight of the weapon. He and Bill exchanged nervous looks, almost anxious to keep going on. They knew that after a tank and a witch could only come a horde... or another tank. Neither of those options seemed promising.

The crew didn't say anything to the females joining them again, and they started walking while Louis tried to explain that he had simply forgotten to turn his light off and he was just looking around. It wasn't such a simple mistake; if the two others hadn't been there, Louis could be dead right now.

"So, Anya..." Louis said, hoping to take the subject off of himself and onto her. "What did you do before the zombies came?"

Anya didn't have the chance to answer before Bill piped up. "You idiot, come on. This isn't time for some question and answer session. You thought it was bad when we survived crossing the street. Really..."

The blonde girl sighed and looked away, trying to seem thoughtful, yet dismissive. It was her goal to appear aloof, but still functional. So far, she had been failing at this, but there was always time to redo first impression. Well, that's what she thought.

"Louis, to answer you..." Anya started to say as the crew continued to walk down the streets. Occasionally, a zombie would jump out and someone would shoot them. "I was a music student with an unfortunate interest in studying zombie flicks and games."

"A musician that can weild a gun? What kinda crazy are ya?" Francis asked this, much to her shock. She didn't think he would pay much attention to her.

"My father was in the Army," she replied, getting a glance from Bill, who she could have only guessed as a military man. "He taught my younger brother and I how to shoot."

"So... what happened to your brother?" Zoey asked. There was no way any of them could have known that was a sensitive subject, but when Anya shied away it became apparent. Anya, though, was never the type to leave such an important question unanswered.

"My... my brother was killed. He was... one of the first infected during the outbreak. That's why I'm fighting. I want to find him... if he's still alive."

"You know the chance of that is slim, Anya," Zoey replied, looking all to sympathetic for the girl's unfortunate loss.

"Yes, I do know," Anya asked. "But it's worth a shot as long as there's still a chance."

Francis came back to them, noticing how they had stopped. Bill and Louis stopped after a few more steps. Zoey stood by Anya's side. All of them looked at each other, but the gaze ended on Anya when it was all said and done. There was something respectable about this dream, even if it was already crushed. Zoey was the only one brave enough to speak.

"We're with you, Anya."


End file.
